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Diego

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I wake up with a dry throat, my body still aching. I feel like I've been ran over by a truck.

With difficulty, I force myself to stand up from the bed, my feet coming in contact with the cold hard wooden floor.

I shake my head when I begin to feel dizzy, holding the nearby wall with all the strength I can master. I refuse to be weak; I'll never be weak.

Taking a deep breath, I blink multiple times till I begin to feel better. I begin to walk towards my bathroom when I catch sight of Hunter, who is fast asleep on the couch.

He looks so tired, which is understandable because he hasn't left my side since I got out of the Supreme Jail. I can see eye bugs under his eyes which are accompanied by wrinkles.

Hunter isn't taking care of himself, and it hurts to see him like this. He never looks like this, and I know that it is my fault.

My brother is always alert these days; he has somehow turned into my bodyguard.

It is uncomfortable to have him in my space, though. Because I really love my personal space.

I appreciate what he is doing for me, but it will take me a long long time to get comfortable with having someone near me.

Having been in the Supreme Jail for five years, I had no one around, and I admit that I got used to being my only company.

I find myself walking in Hunter's direction, picking up the blanket that is laying down next to him, smiling as I place the blanket on him, chuckling when he lets out a loud snore.

He hasn't changed a bit. He still sleeps like a baby; kicking and throwing everything around him.

It's kind of funny to me how afraid people are of Hunter. Because he really is a good man, mischievous and arrogant, but still a good man.

Watching him sleep reminds me of years back, when we slept in the streets.

We used to sleep on boxes in an ally, which thankfully was sheltered. The ally was quite tiny, so we had to squeeze ourselves. And the idiot I call my brother would always kick me in the face: I still wonder how he used to turn around, though.

A smile graces my lips as I realize how far Hunter and I have come. From getting abused in our childhoods to living in luxury.

I really hope our journey together doesn't end soon. I hope the demons I face don't get to me, soon.

I hope I live to inspire those that have passed through something similar to my life.

Yes, I don't want people to envy my life. But I do want them to know that it will be alright in the end.

However, before I can inspire anyone, I know that I need to get rid of the voices that are inside my head. The voices in my head will be my downfall. They are the reason that I am like this.

Yes, my parents also played a big role in the way I am today. Do I hate them? Yes, I do.

They don't even deserve to be called parents. The trauma they caused me will always hunt me, it will live with me for the rest of my life.

I was ignorant when I was young, making up excuses for the abuse they inflicted on me. But now I just want answers: I want to know what I did wrong to them.

I grew up having low self-esteem. I felt unwanted, and the pain I felt when I saw other kids happy with their parents is something that I will live with for the rest of my life.

People can birth a child, contribute to a child's upbringing, and do everything that is expected of them as parents. But at the end of it all, how they treat the child will matter.

The child will grow to either resent or love the people or person. Some children will accept to continue living with the toxicity, and some will decide to leave the toxicity behind.

And even though I was disowned, I feel better to know that I don't have to live with the burden of thinking that I was the problem, when in reality I was just a child that needed love and affection.

The smile doesn't leave my face as I walk down the staircase, my mind occupied with memories of Hunter and I.

Honesty, I love the bond that Hunter and I share. We are each other's pillers, and I won't allow anyone to break our bond.

Hunter has been by my side since day one. When others were laughing at me, calling me names and shit: Hunter was right besides me, threating to kick their asses if they didn't leave me alone.

When I was being disowned, Hunter stood by me, choosing to leave his Aunt's house, just so I could have company.

Water and blood are important in one's life. But even though blood is thicker than water, water will continue to flow while blood will dry up.

Blood can dry up because of it's thickness, and just like that, family relations can dry up as well.

Jealousy is an emotion that I do not like, but I do admit that I have felt the emotion a few times in the past.

I remember watching the other prisoners' interact with their families, while I stood in the back with my arms folded.

Some of the prisoners had their parents visit them, smiles on their faces as they spoke to one another. The hugs and kisses that were shared amongst themselves were precious... I wished I could have the same interaction with my supposed parents.

I am forever grateful that Hunter came to visit me every week, but I also thought of the two evil people visiting me.

I pictured myself in my fellow prisoners' place, imagining their parents as mine. I imagined them coming to see me, hugging me with tears in their eyes as they asked me about my stay in that hell hole.

Surprisingly, my imagination turned into a reality... A reality that I hate to this day.

The words that they said to me that day still live in my head rent free. The words replay in my head like a broken radio: a radio that I try so hard to switch off.

I feel a strong urge take over me when I enter the kitchen, my eyes catching sight of the knife that is placed so gracefully on top of the cabinetry.

I really want to run to it. I want to pick it up. I want to place it against my wrist. I want to numb my pain with it. I really want to wash the memories away.

My legs begin to move in its direction, my eyes not once losing sight of it. My hand reaches out to it, my finger touching the handle before I pull my hand away.

An image of Hunter comes to mind, his eyes full with tears as he stands in front of a casket, which has me laying inside it.

My head begins to get foggy as I fight my thoughts.

One part of me wants me to stop numbing my pain, but the other part of me is trying to talk me into numbing the pain. I can hear Hunter's voice in my head, telling me to walk away from the knife.

The voice keeps telling me that I have a lot to live for. It is telling me to fight my demons. And with a lot of difficulty, I listen to the voice.

I withdraw my hand from the knife, walking towards the refrigerator, where I grab a bottle of water. I open the bottle, feeling refreshed after I gulp half of its contents.

The past few days have been a blur to me, and I don't think I've drank anything refreshing. I don't remember anything that happened after that day.

My eyes wander around the room, meeting the digital clock that is hang on the wall.

Disbelief is what I feel when I realize that it has been three days since that day.

I can't believe that I am having those episodes again. I don't want to go back to the way I was: I don't want to live that life, again.

I don't want to be broken. I don't to want my demons to destroy me.

I begin to hear a destructive voice in my head as I turn to look at the knife, the voice becoming stronger as it tells me to end it all.

The urge to hurt myself becomes stronger as I walk towards the knife. I don't want to hurt myself, but it seems like my body has a mind of its own.

My unoccupied hand reaches out for the knife, my head beginning to pound as I lift it up.

I really don't want to use it, but my body still wants to feel the pain that comes from it.

Taking a deep breath, I place the knife to my wrist, mentally preparing myself for everything that is about to happen.

I am about to apply force to the knife, when it is knocked out of my hold, leaving me shocked.

Author's Note.